


P.S. Le Melin

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, M/M, but here it is anyway, flashbacks to the past, the P.S. I Love You au you didn't want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not stand at my grave and weep<br/>I am not there. I do not sleep.<br/>I am a thousand winds that blow.<br/>I am the diamond glints on snow.<br/>I am the sunlight on ripened grain.<br/>I am the gentle autumn rain.<br/>When you awaken in the morning's hush<br/>I am the swift uplifting rush<br/>Of quiet birds in circled flight.<br/>I am the soft stars that shine at night.<br/>Do not stand at my grave and cry;<br/>I am not there. I did not die. </p><p>                                             - Mary Elizabeth Frye</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To avoid confusion:
> 
> Normal – present  
> Italics – flashback  
> Bold – Letters from Bard

 

He could hear them talk. His children, their children. Of course he could. Just because he had gone quiet didn’t mean his ears had stopped working.

He just didn’t have anything to say. Even to them.

“I’m worried, since it happened, he barely eats.” Tilda fretted, he did not mean to make her fret.

“There’s not much we can do. We can’t force him.” Bain replied, worry evident in his voice as well

“He hardly moves, it’s been months.” Sigrid that time.

“Do you think a healer would help?”

“No. They cannot help with this, but perhaps we can, befo– .”

Legolas was the last voice he heard before Thranduil tuned out again. They couldn’t help him, they couldn’t bring Bard back.

He was being a terrible father, he wasn’t the only one here who had suffered a loss, Bain, Sigrid and Tilda had all lost a father, and Bard had been unquestionably dear to Legolas as well, Tauriel had lost a friend.

But the race of men was far more resilient to loss it would seem. Maybe because except in cases of tragedy, mortal children outlived their parents, maybe that was what made them resilient to it.

They had been devastated when their father died of course, but something in mortals seemed to make them able to keep going, and to carry on and although they still missed him so much, every day they coped a little better.

Elves were not supposed to lose each other though, it was not a usual factor in one’s life. Thranduil had managed to force himself on after his wife’s death for Legolas, so small at the time. But now all the children were grown and didn’t need him anymore.

Thranduil did not know how to do it anymore. He did not know if he could. He did not know if he cared to even try this time.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since it happened.

Sigrid had said it had been months, had said it like that was a long time. That was nothing. Nothing compared to the eternity alone he was now faced with.

He was caught between feeling a desperate clawing loss and feeling empty.

He did not know what was worse.

The sounds of people talking got louder, as if they were approaching.

Thranduil closed and locked the door. When someone knocked he made no answer.

Eventually whoever it was left him in his solitude again.

He drifted into his huge wardrobe, a room in itself really, Bard had always made fun of him for it. He found one of Bard’s old tunics. Once he had picked it up he found he couldn’t let go of it again.

He curled up with it in their bed.

He supposed it was just his bed now.

 

 

_“Bard would you please stop laughing?” Thranduil whined, arms and legs crossed and pouting from his perch on their bed._

_Bard did not stop laughing._

_“Oh come on Thran, this is ridiculous.” Bard was practically cackling at this point. “I mean honestly, do you need all this stuff? I have never seen you wear this.”_

_The laughter continued as Bard carried on rummaging deeper and deeper into his wardrobe, the occasional bit of especially ostentatious garb being pulled out with an even louder chuckle from Bard._

_“You don’t even have much stuff! You can’t need to make this much room!” Thranduil complained as yet another of his less practical outfits made an appearance._

_“I am allowing space for all the outfits you’re bound to buy me at some point.” Bard grinned, poking his head out of the wardrobe, and well, when he looked that happy Thranduil found it hard to deny him anything._

_“Fine, continue to make space for your things.” Thranduil relented, as if Bard wasn’t going to do just that anyway._

_And honestly the fact that Bard was making room for himself made Thranduil so completely happy that he could barely stop smiling, even when he was trying to pout._

_Thranduil got very suspicious when Bard’s gwaffing laughter instead turned into suppressed half-muffled giggled._

_“Bard? What are you doing in there?” Thranduil asked, unable to help his own grin even though he had no idea what it was yet._

_Apparently happiness was just completely infectious._

_Thranduil jumped off the bed and went into the wardrobe to find out what his troublesome love was up to now._

_What he found was Bard dressed up in some of his royal outfits, all a few inches too long for him and far too grandiose and really that kind of clothing just generally looked ridiculous on him frankly._

_They were both struggling to breathe through their laugher in seconds, when they had finally caught their breath, they worked on getting Bard out of those clothes, in fact, all clothes of Thranduil’s hit the floor, regardless of the body they were on._

 

 

Thranduil still ran the kingdom, as much as he could. His heart wasn’t in it as it once was. His heart was gone.

He ruled in the loosest sense, he made sure what was needed done was done, going through the motions of the administrative side of ruling, he kept Mirkwood’s affairs in order.

He used to refuse to call it that; ‘Mirkwood’. But now even for Thranduil, he could find no light nor green in the woods anymore. He couldn’t find it anywhere.

He ruled. But he was absent. His subjects barely saw him, he shut himself away from everyone but his family.

And even with they he rarely communicated anymore.

He felt so alone, somehow, company seemed to make it worse, they could not comprehend the depth of his loss.

Bain, Sigrid and Tilda because they did not know. Legolas because he had not yet experience it himself.

A soul bond. Thranduil had not known if it would form between and elf and a mortal. But it had.

And just like his wife, Bard had taken a part of Thranduil’s soul with him when he died.

Thranduil did not know if there was enough of it left for him to carry on.

He felt hollow.

But he sat in the grand halls, atop his beautifully carven throne, and he listened as his elves spoke to him. The few things he needed to know.

He had none of the poise on his throne that he used to. He didn’t pay attention to what he wore. He would wear Bard’s clothes if only they fit. He slept in one of his old shirts. His hair was tied back without a thought. Bard had always loved his hair. It made it seem a reminder.

Maybe he would cut it.

Bard wouldn’t want him to.

But Bard wasn’t here anymore.

Except that he was. He was everywhere. He would always be here.

Thranduil wanted to forget and he never wanted to forget. He wanted it never to have happened and he wouldn’t sacrifice it for the whole of Arda. He wanted a forever with Bard and he would give his entire life just for five more minutes with him. He wanted–

He wanted him not to be dead.

People looked at him with worry.

People whispered about him fading.

Thranduil didn’t know if he wasn’t really noticing or if he just did not care.

He looked to the spot where Bard would usually stand during these meetings, just off to the corner, leaning on a tall column, smirking at him about some boring comment someone just made.

He looked as if he would see him there. But Bard was gone. And no one was stood there. And suddenly the hall seemed far too big he was lost within it, when before, sharing private smiles with Bard while other spoke, it had seemed like an incredibly intimate space.

He missed him.

 

 

_Thranduil was bored out of his skull. Honestly was it really necessary for these audiences to drag on for quite this long._

_He was listening just enough to the elf speaking to him to know that what he was saying wasn’t exactly important. At least not important enough to distract him from focusing the vast majority of his attention on Bard instead._

_Bard who was in the corner of the room, not saying a word and not really doing anything at all, and yet managing to be endlessly more fascinating than anything else Thranduil could find._

_They communicated through smiles and flickers._

_Thranduil winked and Bard gave him a stern look that most definitely was telling him to pay attention._

_Thranduil told Bard he was bored with a quick but withering expression and Bard rolled his eyes in return (he was bored too then)._

_When one of his subjects asked an interesting question about trade rates with Dale, Thranduil sent him a confirming look and Bard nodded. They did not need to speak to have a conversation._

_Thranduil bit on his lip and glanced his eyes over to those warm brown-green ones, and Bard quirked an eyebrow that said ‘behave’ loud and clear._

_Thranduil grinned gleefully as the last elf to see him today was announced and Bard smiled softly and shook his head fondly._

_And when Thranduil had completed his audiences for the day, Bard wandered up to the throne and attempted to frown at Thranduil (he was terrible at frowning at Thranduil)._

_“You really should pay more attention to these things you know.” Bard tried to scold, but there was nothing but affection behind his tone._

_“It is not my fault there is something so much more worthy of my attention stealing it away.” Thranduil teased back._

_Bard rolled his eyes and kissed him. Thranduil loved it when he did that._

_“Come on, you promised you would start teaching Tilda to ride.” Bard smiled, offering Thranduil a hand to hold as they headed out of the room._

_“As if I had forgotten. Sirdal should already be being saddled for her.” Thranduil grinned, leading the way to the stables._

_“Thran, a horse, she’s supposed to learn to ride a horse, not an elk, at least to start with.” Bard complained, but there was laughter in his voice still._

_“Nonsense, she’s a very talented young lady our Tilda, she’s do just fine. Besides, Sirdal loves her, he’ll do most the word to start with anyway.” Thranduil reasoned, even though Bard clearly didn’t really mind. “And I already promised her anyway.” He added, Bard let out a very overdramatic sigh (and yet Thranduil was always called the melodramatic one!) and relented, but there was still that smile quirking at his lips, everything was okay so long as that smile was there._

_“Fine. I guess I have been out manoeuvred.”_

_“I guess you have.” Thranduil smirked and before long they were laughing again._

_He managed to convince Bard to try and ride an elk as well that day, he had looked so hysterically uncomfortable on the animal that Thranduil had wished he had some way of preserving the image forever._

_And in a way he did, because he had never forgotten it._  

 

 

He found it hard to take any comfort from the things he used to delight in, for he had shared them all with Bard and he did not know how to enjoy them without him anymore.

The music he loved reminded him of dances shared with Bard, fast and slow, drunk and sober, loud and quiet. Dances they would never had again.

Now music sent spectre’s of Bard swirling in front of him. It reawakened memories so happy and carefree that they almost broke him to remember.

Even the food tasted bland now, so he ate very little. Food that had exploded on his tongue before. Like there was nothing sweet left in the world. Or maybe it was that he only had small bites of elvish food nowadays, Bard had introduced him to a plethora of flavour in the food of men.

His favourite had been a cake. Bard said it was very popular among his people, strawberries and cream on a light sponge. He wanted to try some again, get one from the market in Dale. But he feared it would not taste the same without Bard there.

And he barely left his room these days, he did not think he could manage a trip to Dale at the moment.

If ever.

He could not drink the wine anymore. It made him feel sick and he would fall into a depression under its influence, unable to supress his grief even the small amount he managed while sober. Apparently he had keened and cried and screamed until a healer got him to drink a sleeping draught.

He did not drink anymore. That was no comfort either. 

Clothes, he had taken such pride in them, always choosing the perfect ensemble for the perfect occasion, Bard would always gently tease him for it, despite the fact that he always approved of and loved the final product, kissing Thranduil’s temple before placing his crown or circlet on his head.

It was hard to care about that now, outfits. Torn between marvelling at their utter irrelevance and just throwing on whatever he could find. Usually finding something of Bard’s in the wardrobe and feeling another crack split down his heart.

But every outfit held a different memory, and he remembered them all. The clothes he had been wearing when they met, during Bard’s disastrous attempt to teach him to ice skate, the ones Thranduil wore when trying to blend in with Dale (it never worked which had just made it funnier to he and Bard), clothes worn over nights laying out in the woods watching the stars, the robes he wore to the mortal wedding they had, and the rather less modest ones he had adorned for their elven joining.

Everything he had reminded him of a day, a story, a moment they had shared together and never would again. Thranduil wanted to burn them all. He wanted to wear them all.

He wanted Bard back, in any way he could have him.

But there was no way. Even in death. There was no way.

 

It was another day without Bard, another day further from him. He had withdrawn further still. Ordered no one to disturb him. But still there was a knock at his chamber door.

A persistent knock.

Thranduil could feel himself boiling, ready to lash out, until it was his children’s voices he heard. They would always be their children, no matter how old they grew.

He was already being a terrible parent to them. He would not hurt them by action as well as his inaction.

“Ada, there is someone to see you, please come out.” Legolas implored, knocking lightly on the door once more.

“I’m sorry Legolas, please, just leave me for today. Tell them to leave.” Thranduil responded, his voice was horse, he wasn’t sure when the last time he had spoken was.

“Ada you don’t want this one to leave.” Tilda’s voice insisted.

“Please.” The four of them chorused together before Thranduil could refuse again.

Thranduil stood on shaky legs. He did not know when he had last eaten. And slowly got to the door, pulling it open.

His children looked stricken with worry the moment they saw him, they clamped it down fast but he had still seen it.

It was not surprised.

He was thinner, weaker, untidy, he did not even have the energy to conceal his scars.

He was barely recognisable.

He was fading.

They helped him down the long halls, he could have done it himself, but he let them help. It was more than he had allowed since Bard died.

Waiting for him in the grandeur of his throne room was a man carrying a box and a letter.

He looked shocked at the sight of Thranduil. Thranduil could not blame him.

“Delivery for you, your majesty.” He announced, voice nervous.

“Who is it from?” Thranduil asked, wondering who had ordered anything so small from Dale for him, or on behalf of him.

“I think you had better just read this.” He answered anxiously as he passed Thranduil the letter and set down the box on a small table that had been brought out.

Thranduil opened the letter.

He almost broke.

He recognised the script.

“If this is someone’s idea of a sick joke.” Thranduil started, voice shaking and breaking, legs unsteady he felt he might fall.

“It’s not! I promise.” He answered quickly, terrified.

“You can go.” Legolas told him, he looked relived and practically ran from the room. “Read it ada.” Legolas then urged him.

Thranduil was helpless not to.

 

**My darling Thran,**

**If my delivery boy has done his job, then it should have been six months since I passed and wherever I am I know that I miss you.**

**You whispered to me once, I think you thought I was sleeping, that you could not go on without me. You can Thran, I know it. You a strong and brave and resilient, you are most amazing person I know. You made my life extraordinary, and I would not change a single second of it.**

**But I am just one moment in your beautiful life. There will be more, even if it does not feel like it now, there will be so many more, but you have to go on to find them. I know that it will be hard, but you can’t be afraid to live again.**

**Thank you for everything you gave me, more love and happiness than I ever dared imagined for myself. You were the best husband to me and father to our children that I could have ever hoped for.**

**But I know you, and I know that you might need some help and a little nudge every now and then, so I bought you a friend, one who has never failed to make you smile. Open the box that came with this letter.**

**If you ever need me, know that I am always right beside you.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S._ _Le melin_**

Filled with disbelief and with tears threatening at his eyes, Thranduil shakily set down the letter and with trembling hands opened the box.

A cake.

Strawberries and cream.

 

 

 

  

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Thranduil knew there would be another letter, the thought of it as what kept him going. He couldn’t let himself fade, not when Bard must be sending him more letters.

So he forced himself to get up at least once during the day. To eat more than an occasional bite of food. It was not much, but it was more than he had been managing before Bard’s first letter. If people noticed the change they did not mention it, maybe they were worried that should they say anything the fragile hold Thranduil had regained on life might slip away again. 

He reread the letter so many times. Not a day went by when he didn’t. Barely an hour would go by when he didn’t at least slip his hand into his pocket and just gasp the parchment. He never went anywhere without it.

It was his lifeline.

He moved around his palace slowly, painfully slowly, but at least he was moving.

His subjects moved out of his path, but he did not think it was for the same reason it used to be. He used to be seen as cold, ill-tempered, they stayed out of his way through fear and subservience. But that was not what he felt today, today it seemed more like they stayed away for fear that they might break the spell, whatever it was that had gotten their king to put one foot in front of the other again, they feared not him anymore, now they feared they would shatter him instead.

It had been a few weeks since the letter had arrived. Thranduil had savoured every bite of the cake. It was just as delicious as he had always remembered it. And it had felt like Bard was there with him, coaxing him into trying some of the food of his people, always opening up Thranduil’s eyes to one thing or another.

Thranduil walked slowly up to the doors or his palace, the ones that led out to the stable. He had not been out there since Bard had died. He had not left his halls since Bard had died. Until the past few weeks, he had barely left his room.

He suddenly felt guilty, Sirdal probably worried, such was his bond with the elk. To have not seen him. He roamed freely out in the dank woods, but could often be found by Thranduil in the stables. As if he knew Thranduil was coming.

It had been a long while.

He looked at the doors, they felt daunting. Thranduil felt small. He gripped the letter in his pocket and stared at the opulent doors.

Eventually Thranduil sighed and turned away, returning to his chambers, he was not ready yet, not today. Maybe another time. Perhaps next week he would find the drive, the desire, the energy, to leave the main halls again.

He felt more tired with every step that he took, he needed to lie down, curl up with Bard. But he could not. Not really. But he had the letter. That was something.

He thought he might fall as his legs became weaker, he felt drained. But Without a word Galion had a hand under his arm and helped him back to his chambers.

He must have been so close to fading.

So weak.

Galion supported him until he was resting back on their bed – on his bed, there was no Bard to share it with any longer – with a small motion of his hand Thranduil dismissed Galion. He looked reluctant to leave, but he did.

Thranduil didn’t know if he was recovering or not. Maybe he was just holding on for the letters. But just like Bard, they could not go on forever. He wondered what would happened when they stopped.

He imagined he would stop as well. 

How do you go on when you have run out of things to hold onto?

The answer seemed simple.

You didn’t.

But for now he was holding on.

He found one of Bard’s soft old tunics, a deep red, it was one of his favourites. Thranduil divested himself of whatever clothes he had managed to pull on that morning and slipped into the old tunic. Crawling under the covers and moving to Bard’s side of the bed, even though it had long since stopped smelling like him, and the indent that used to be there was now pressed over with his own.

Thranduil looked over at the table that sat to the side of the bed, Bard’s side of the bed, he found himself caught between smiling and crying as he always was when overcome with memories from their time together.

 

_“Thran, darlin’, I need you to move. He have to get up and you’re crushing my lungs.” Bard chuckled, attempting to shift the sleeping Thranduil from where he had ended up sprawled completely over Bard._

_“I think we should have a lie in.” Thranduil muttered sleepily, nosing into Bard’s strong chest._

_“You always think we should have a lie in.” Bard laughed again, trying to card his fingers through Thranduil’s messy morning hair._

_(He was under a threat of death not to tell anyone how messy his hair was in the mornings)._

_“That’s because it’s always a good idea.” Thranduil mumbled, tucking his head under Bard’s chin._

_“You’re terrible.” Bard told him voice brimming with affection, Thranduil smiled and hummed in agreement._

_Just as Thranduil thought he was going to be allowed to doze back to sleep on his beautiful husband, his horrible husband tried to move again. Thranduil made the best disgruntled noise he could muster and pushed Bard back down._

_“I am not your human pillow you know.” Bard commented dryly, but he wasn’t trying to get up again._

_“I beg to differ.” Thranduil smirked against his skin, drawing absentminded patterns with his finger tips onto Bard’s chest._

_“We really do need to get up.” Bard sighed._

_When he had first started sleeping in Thranduil’s chambers with him, Thranduil had managed to convince him that it for still dark outside for hours, as his rooms were always kept dark until Thranduil got up and lit the gentle lamps that littered the room._

_But unfortunately he had found out when a rather concerned Galion had come looking for them one afternoon._

_“Just a little longer.” Thranduil requested, unwilling to move from Bard, not that he would be any more willing in a few minutes._

_“Fine.” Bard smiled, always unable to deny him. “A little while longer.”_

_So they dozed back into a light slumber, or at least Thranduil did, for Bard continued to pet his hair and run his fingers over Thranduil’s bare back as Thranduil fell back into a shallow sleep._

_He was fairly sure Bard gave him almost another whole hour, unwilling to bring himself to wake the sleeping figure on his chest most likely, but alas eventually Bard did nudge him awake again._

_“Come on you, up.” Bard coaxed and Thranduil sighed dramatically._

_“I don’t want to.” He whined and got himself a laugh and a gentle slap to his rear, yelp in mild surprise._

_“Up.” Bard grinned, and Thranduil couldn’t help but share it, giving Bard an utterly filthy good morning kiss._

_He had never minded Bard’s morning breath._

_“Stop trying to distract me, we need to get up.” Bard muttered into Thranduil’s mouth, giving a nip to Thranduil’s bottom lip before pulling away. “I’m serious.” He laughed as Thranduil pouted._

_“Fine.” Thranduil gave a melodramatic and put upon sigh before dragging himself out of their bed, shifting across Bard to climb out on his side of the bed, as he always did when he slept like this – most nights then._

_And as always happened when he got out of Bard’s side of the bed, he immediately stubbed a toe and tripped on Bard’s beside table._

_“Everytime.” Bard laughed as Thranduil cursed in Sindarin and fixed the table with a glare that Bard was surprised didn’t turn it to flames right there._

_“I hate that table.” Thranduil grouched, looking as if he was seriously considering throwing it across the room, or demoting it to firewood._

_“I’ve said before, I’m quite happy to move it further away from the bed as you seem intent on tripping over it every morning.” Bard reminded him, slinging his own legs out of bed and having no trouble not bumping into the asshole of a little table._

_“Nonsense, that is where you keep your books, you like to read before bed. It would not be nearly as convenient halfway across the room. I shall just have to be more careful in the mornings.” Thranduil pointed out, even though Bard knew this, he just offered anyway, because he was Bard._

_“Thank you love.” Bard smiled, kissing Thranduil gently on the cheek._

 

Thranduil tried not to cry at the simple memory, it was one repeated so often in their morning routine.

He hated that table.

He loved that table.

It was Bard’s.

He still tripped on it, almost every morning. But now there was no one to chuckle and kiss him afterwards.

A few days later Thranduil was lingering in his room, he had not left it yet today, he was not sure he would manage to. Maybe not today.

But then there was a knock on his chamber door. It sounded almost excited, as if a knock could sound excited.

Thranduil opened it. He at least answered the door nowadays. Most of the time.

It was Galion, he wordlessly passed over a letter with a soft smile before turning and leaving Thranduil to his privacy.

Thranduil took the letter and tore it open as he recognised the handwriting spelling out his name on the front. He crawled up into their bed and read the letter, he felt surrounded by Bard.

It was not long. But it was perfect.

 

**My darling Thran,**

**Look to your left, you see that wonderful little table that you trip over every morning? Save your toes and move it across the room.**

**Put it next to your vanity table, get some more use out of it other than stubbing your toe!**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

 

Thranduil laughed as he read the short letter he hadn’t laughed in so long the sound felt foreign on his tongue. It startled him. Bard would always be able to make him laugh. Even after he was gone, apparently. But it just didn’t feel like he was gone.

It felt like he was right there, just around the corner.

Thranduil clambered off the bed with more energy than he had felt since Bard left him, he picked up Bard’s bedside table and walked it across the room. He had to shift some stuff, to make room for it next to his vanity table, he wasn’t as tidy as he used to be. He hadn’t used his vanity table in months. The mirror was dusty.

He placed the table next to vanity and sat on the ornate chair, he wiped the dust of the mirror in front of him.

His reflection in the looking glass startled him. He did not look like himself any more.

His hair was unkempt, his face was gaunt, there were deep dark shadows under his eyes, he had little colour in his face, he was skinnier than he used to be.

He looked as if he was on deaths doorstep.

He probably had been.

For the first time in months, Thranduil picked up one of his favourite brushes, and ran it through his hair.

 

The day after the second letter, Thranduil forged out of his rooms again, hair brushed for the first time in a very long while, but his clothes were still far less regal and opulent than they had ever been before Bard’s death.

He joined his family for lunch. He could see the shock in their eyes, but they did not comment, fearful of breaking whatever it was that had drawn Thranduil from his rooms. Thranduil placed the new letter on the table for them to read as an explanation, they each read it and grinned, before passing the letter back to Thranduil, who tucked it safely back in his pocket with the other one.

He did not miss his family’s soft smiles as he ate, less than he used to, but far more than he had lately.

He felt better after lunch more awake, no doubt as result of the new letter and food.

With his hand wrapped securely around the two letters in his pocket, Thranduil made his way towards the stables.

He hadn’t been able to go in before, but today he felt stronger. Thranduil pushed open the doors, he missed the hopeful smiles of the elves that saw him go.

Sirdal was not there as he usually was when Thranduil arrived, he probably had not believed Thranduil would come. He felt guilty and took a seat on one of the benches. He did not yet have the will to go outside. He could not face his dying forest, not yet. There was already too much death.

But he knew he would go if Bard told him to.

Bard’s letter made him feel like Bard was holding his hand once again, carefully helping him back out into the world.

It would not be the first time he had done so.

Thranduil was only sat waiting for half an hour until he heard the sound of familiar hooves coming into the stables.

“Hello my friend.” Thranduil croaked out, his voice was breaking, he was suddenly fighting back tears.

Sirdal came up to him and nudged his snout against Thranduil’s face. He felt so guilty for spending so long without so much as visiting his beloved friend.

“I am sorry.” Thranduil whispered to the elk.

He knew his friend understood, he settled down on the floor next to Thranduil and stayed as Thranduil run his hand over his head and muzzle, petting the elk. He had missed this.

He felt like he was drawing strength from Bard’s letters, curled up in his pocket.

His daily routine changed very slightly after that. He always visited the stables and Sirdal for a little while after lunch every day, it was not much, but it was more than he had managed before.

The days passed and Thranduil quietly awaited his next letter from Bard. But even if he still did not say much, almost every day he made it out of his chambers and ate a small lunch with his family before going to visit Sirdal.

He just wished he could stop crying himself to sleep.

But he did not think that would stop until he did, until Bard’s letter did.

He had never been so impatient before now, waiting for the letter, the lifeline.

The leaves were turning to a rich dark brown and falling from the trees as the autumn time began and Thranduil waited. Sometimes he would venture onto their balcony, watch the trees, his unpolluted personal gardens. Their haven from the world.

He had not been able to go out there since.

He missed it.

He missed Bard.

 

_“Tell me about them.” Bard asked, rolling over onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he looked at Thranduil, lain out on the soft grass next to him._

_“About what?” Thranduil responded, turning his head to look at his husband, who tucked a lock of his silver-blonde hair behind his ear._

_“The stars.” Bard told him, looking back up at the sky, it was a very clear night, the stars vivid and bright._

_These were Thranduil’s favourite nights, especially as he got to share them with his love._

_“I’ve already told you about them many times.” Thranduil smiled, Bard leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, like he just couldn’t help himself._

_“And yet I never tire of it.” Bard murmured back against Thranduil’s red lips._

_“Which ones would you like me to tell you about?” Thranduil asked as Bard tucked himself into his side, a warm, safe line against him, eyes looking with wonder up at the sky._

_“All of them.” Bard said, head resting on Thranduil’s arm, bringing a hand up to tangle their hands together._

_“That would take all night meleth nín.” Thranduil smiled again, pressing a kiss to Bard’s messy brown hair._

_“I know.” Bard sighed happily._

_So Thranduil told him about the stars, and they fell asleep in their garden, their haven, the stars seemed to watch over them as they slept right there on the soft forest floor._

He waited for him to come back to him, for another letter, another little piece of Bard to be returned to him.

In the stables and in his chambers and on their balcony he waited.

And he waited.

And he waited.

But before all the leaves had fallen, Thranduil noticed something out in the baring tree.

His eyes had lost some of their keenness, another sign of how lose to fading away he had truly been, but he still saw it as the leaves cleared. A letter, out there in the tree.

He would have to go into the garden to get it.

He did not even think about it, barely even noticed he was going outside for the first time in months, before he was rushing out the room and down the winding stairs, out into their private garden.

He had not moved this fast in a long time.

Bard was very clever indeed.

Thranduil reached up into the branches and with delicate fingers he untied the string securing the letter to the tree.

Thranduil opened the letter with reverent hands, carefully pulling the new letter out from it’s envelope.

 

**Ha! You’re outside! Success!**

**Did you see this from our balcony? As the leaves fell and allowed you to see it?**

**I always thought it was a shame we couldn’t go straight from our room into the garden, maybe you should plant a tree to grow beside the balcony, then you could climb straight down. I’m sure everyone would be shocked to see you clambering down a tree. Not that you ever clambered of course my love, but you need to remember to be a little silly sometimes I think, it’s good for you.**

**Anyway, I hope it is a clear, dry night outside, because I want you to lie down on the grass like we did so many times before and look up at the vast and beautiful sky.**

**Tell me about the stars Thran, one last time, tell me about the stars.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

Thranduil lay back and told Bard about the stars.

Bard never tired of hearing about the stars.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are still enjoying this, thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, your comments bring me joy <3


	3. Chapter 3

 

Thranduil sat outside in their little garden, he did that a lot in the evenings these days. Sometimes he would saying something aloud about the star. With his hand wrapped around the three pieces of parchment folded carefully in his pocket, it almost felt like he was talking to Bard. Almost like he was right there next to him again.

He usually managed to find a way out of their – his – bed before noon, he would try to find it in him to have lunch with his family, then he visited Sirdal in the stables and just sat quietly with him for a long while. He considered taking him out for a ride sometimes, but he did not think he had the strength yet, to leave the safe walls of the palace.

He needed Bard to give him the strength to do it.

He needed Bard.

Then in the evenings Thranduil usually retired to their gardens or onto their balcony where he would sit and miss Bard so intensely he quite thought it would cripple him.

Then he remembered, it already had.

Gone was the shining and beautiful elf that he had once been. All that was left was a hollow shell, a shadow.

He had lost too much in his life. He had lost Bard, and yet it was Bard that drove him on to wake up the next morning, to not just never wake up again. The eternal slumber.

He stayed for Bard’s letters, for that was all of him that he had left now. Even in death, Thranduil would not find him again.

There was only sadness and solitude left for him.

Sitting in his halls with the ghosts of people he had once loved.

He wished he could see them again, one last time.

It was this thought that had Thranduil moving slowly up from his spot on the ground and towards the great doors that lead inside.

The hour was late and elves that saw him sent him curious looks but left him be as he drifted through his halls. Thranduil found his way down the winding stairs of his palace, his hand gripping the letters as if they were the very thing driving him on, as if it was Bard’s hand in his own, tugging him along this path.

But that was exactly what Bard was doing. He was showing him the way.

The closer he got to his destination the fewer elves he saw, it was not a surprise, only his family had any right to be down here, and even then their visits were rare.

Thranduil stood outside yet another set of tall imposing doors, trying to find the strength to go in.

He did not want to.

But he wanted to see them again.

So he gripped onto the letters and opened the doors.

The room was like a maze, seats littered about the place all facing some painting or trinket, a memory.

The maze of walls allowed Thranduil to be alone with people. With his mother, her likenesses hanging closest to the door, Thranduil used it to remember what she looked like. His father, tall and proud and wise, Thranduil came here occasionally to speak to him, seek advice. His beautiful wife, soft where he was sharp, light where he was dark.

But they were old pains, a wound that was always there, just like the ones on his skin, but dulled with time, ones he had learned to live with.

There was a new wound that he was still trying to learn to live with. To see if he was able. To see if it was finally too much, one too many portraits in the room, one too many knives in his heart. To see if he even wanted to live with it, with any of it, anymore.

He pressed on through the simple maze, keeping each portrait private an unobscured, until he came to the newest one.

His Bard.

Thranduil sat down and looked at the paintings. The largest was of them both. It was informal for a portrait. They were paying no attention to the artist. Thranduil remembered the day it was done well.

 

_“Bard you really should sit still.” Thranduil commented dryly, amusement playing in his tone as his husband fidgeted around next to him._

_“I don’t see the point in this and I don’t like this tunic.” Bard grumbled. “It’s itchy.”_

_“I offered to give you an entire wardrobe woven out of silk but you refused. And the point in this is memory Bard, I want to remember us always as we are now.” Thranduil told him._

_Bard had never asked before, always content to let Thranduil have him alone or them together painted and put up about the place. But for some reason this time Bard did not seem to wish to be here._

_“Why would you want to remember me as I am now?” Bard muttered pulling at his unruly greying hair, in fact now it was almost entirely grey._

_He realised what the problem was._

_The grey hair, the wrinkles, the signs of age Bard now wore. Fifty-five._

_Thranduil caught his hands and brought them up to his mouth, pressing kisses to the aging skin._

_“Because even though I think it impossible to feel for you any more than I do already, I love you even more every day, it consumes me. My beautiful husband.” Thranduil said gently, pressing a kiss to Bard’s soft lips._

_“I am not beautiful.” Bard responded, resting his creased forehead against Thranduil’s smooth one._

_“You are to me meleth nín, you always will be to me.” Thranduil assured, tucking more of that unruly hair back, maybe he would braid it later._

_“I am old.” Bard persisted, this must have been plaguing his thoughts more than Thranduil knew._

_“And I am scarred, my skin ruined and melted away, my eye clouded and my body burnt. Does it make you love me any less?” Thranduil asked, dropping all his glamour’s down slowly._

_It had taken a long time for Bard to convince him he was beautiful regardless of the scars, but he had managed it, and now Thranduil would do the same for Bard._

_“Of course it does not, I love you with my entire soul, my whole being.” Bard breathed, leaning in to kiss Thranduil, their hands entwined._

_“And nor does your age do anything to dull my love or desire for you.” Thranduil finished calmly, cupping the side of Bard’s face, he loved the feeling of Bard’s short beard on his smooth skin._

_“You still desire me?” Bard asked, disbelief alive again in his tone._

_“Did I not prove it last night?” Thranduil teased, laughter in his voice. “Would you like me to prove it again?”_

_“Yes. Always.” Bard agreed, voice warm and breathy as Thranduil’s hand stroked along his thigh. “But later, when we’re alone in our room, without our poor audience.” He smiled, forcing Thranduil to remember the artist sat behind the easel, looking a little embarrassed._

_“My lord, I actually think I can finish this without you both present, if you would prefer?” She suggested and Thranduil gave her a polite nod, excusing her and leaving them alone._

_Thranduil proved many things that night._

_The portrait was revealed to them a couple of days later._

_Their breath caught as they saw it._

_The artist had taken many risks in painting them in this way, outside the guidelines of her commission. Thranduil paid her extra for her daring. It had paid off._

_They were not facing the artist, but each other, sat close and hands entwined together, Thranduil’s scars and Bard’s age clear in the paint, as was the adoration in their eyes, the longing, the still roaring desire. The unending love._

_It was intimate and private and utterly perfect._

 

Thranduil looked at it and felt something break. He didn’t even know there was anything left that wasn’t already broken.

He cried as he looked at it, curled up on the chair and sobbed. 

For the first time in a very long while, Thranduil raised his voice and shouted.

“Why did you have to leave me.” Thranduil shouted at the paintings of Bard, at the whole room, at them all.

“I still need you and y-you left me here.” It made no sense. None of them had wanted to die. It wasn’t their fault. But Thranduil was still angry. “You are gone and I am a-alone.”

He had no idea how long he sat in there sobbing, crying out in anger. But he had a feeling it was more than a day.

The anger was good, it made him feel something, something strong. It was fight. He had not had that in a long while. A slight spark inside him.

But then he looked to the empty room further in the maze, devoid of paintings. The tiny spark in him died again. He lost his anger.

He lost his anger when he realised that the next portraits to decorate this room, this hall of ghosts, would be the children. Sigrid. Bain. Tilda. He did not want to be around for that.

He felt something in him fall, something became empty. He should not have come in here. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he had the will left to leave.

He curled in on himself, all but ready to shut his eyes and not open them ever again, when something caught his eye.

Tucked behind a painting, just poking out the side, barely visible.

A letter.

Thranduil lunged for it, for the antidote to the poisonous wound that had just opened in his heart, his very soul.

 

**My darling Thran,**

**I miss you too, but I need you to do something, leave this room, because I have a present for you and it is not in here.**

**Lock the door behind you, make sure you’re really ready before you come back. Maybe give the key to Legolas, he knows you better than you think, he’ll know when you’re ready to come back here.**

**Anyway, I promised you a present.**

**Head up to our rooms, under the bed there is a loose panel, inside it is a wodden box, and inside that is something I want you to have. You always had an eye for pretty things and jewls, I hope you like it my love.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

 

Thranduil did as he was asked by Bard, he would have done anything he asked, even though all he wanted to do was run up the stairs and into their room, to find this wooden box, first he found Legolas.

He was in the barracks, talking to one of the guard patrols when Thranduil entered, they all went quiet.

Legolas looked surprised to see him, Thranduil didn’t say a word as he handed over the key to the room, Legolas knew the key instantly, he saw the letter and he seemed to understand. Even if he didn’t he didn’t ask for clarification, slipping the key around his neck and smiling softly at his father.

Only after having removed the key from himself did he head back towards their rooms, his legs carrying him quickly as he found his way through his halls.

He knelt down next to the bed and reached under, finding the lose panel, lifting it up and shifting it to the side, allowing himself to reach inside. He found the wooden box, it had carving all over it that Thranduil knew instantly Bard had done himself, winding around the box. It looked like branches from the forest.

Thranduil pressed open the latches and carefully, reverently, lifted back the lid. Thranduil gasped as he saw what lay inside, shining green emeralds set upon the lightest silver in a decadent necklace.

The emeralds of Girion.

A family heirloom, Thranduil remembered saying how much he liked them once, seeing them in Bard’s house in Dale. They were so beautiful. Bard must have remembered, even though it was a great many years ago.

Thranduil set the necklace around his neck, standing out in stark contrast to the creased and dull clothing he had found that morning to wear. He should pay more attention to how he was dressing, the emeralds deserved a proper ensemble.

Thranduil found himself sitting at his vanity table, looking at the emeralds around his neck. But the rest of his appearance these days did not do the emeralds justice, it dulled them, they deserved better.

His scars were on full view, he never brought up his glamour these days, he did not have the strength to spare on such things. They did not bother him so much anymore, maybe because Bard had truly convinced him that they did not matter, maybe because the scars he felt on the inside not were so much worse. It seemed almost trivial to try and hide the visible ones, even if they were the less painful to bear.

Gently Thranduil started combing out his hair, it had knotted recently. He realised he needed to wash it really. So Thranduil carefully placed the letter on his vanity, not wanting to risk getting them wet, and moved into his private bathing chamber, removing all his clothing and allowing himself to sink into the bath. Luxuriating in the water for the first time in a long while.

After he bathed Thranduil brushed out his long silvery hair. He tied mourning braids into it for the first time since his wife. He had not been able to bring himself to do it before. He laid out clothes for the next day.

Not his opulent regal attire, clothes of black and silvers that would complement the emeralds. So that he might do justice to the gift he had been given.

But that was for tomorrow. Now he needed to sleep. He felt drained, but he no longer felt so empty.

He slipped into one of Bard’s old tunics and picked up the letters reading each of them again before falling asleep with a smile on his face. It felt as though Bard was with him, it kept him going.

 

_“Have you seen Bard?” Thranduil asked Bain when he found him in the great library, he had been looking for his dragonslayer all afternoon but had failed to find him anywhere._

_“Last I saw he was heading out into the forest. He spoke to Galion before he left though, so he might know where he went.” Bain answered, pouring himself over some archive of negotiation._

_“Thank you íon.” Thranduil smiled, heading off to find Galion in hopes that he could be pointed towards his missing husband._

_He found Galion in the kitchens, trying to inventory the rather messy pantry._

_“Galion, do you know where Bard has gone?” Thranduil asked, and Galion looked a little trapped by the rather innocuous question which was odd. “If you know I would bid you tell me.”_

_“Yes my lord, only Bard requested I did not tell you where he was until late this afternoon.” Galion responded, collecting up some cheeses and finding the correct place for them._

_“Whatever for?” Thranduil wondered aloud._

_“Presumably he’s hoping to surprise you with something.” Galion smiled, Thranduil knew he was happier since Thranduil had found Bard, the whole realm was, even the forest seemed to have regained some of its light._

_“When and where may I go find him?” Thranduil pushed, feeling like an impatient elfling all over again but unable to help himself._

_“Just after sunset, Bard told me to tell you he is waiting out in your place in the forest. But you mustn’t go early.” Galion called the last part after him as Thranduil set off back through the palace._

_He forced himself to wait until he was supposed to go out and meet Bard, wiling away the time by picking out a different outfit, one that Bard loved best with rich reds and shining silvers._

_He wasted no time when he decided he could leave, mounting Sirdal and setting off with all haste to their spot, their oasis in the darkening forest._

_It was a little pool out in a clearing of the trees, no spiders seemed to venture there, it still felt like Greenwood The Great. They often spent long lazy summer days stretched out by the cool and pure pool of water, but the summer days was no why it was their spot, no. It was where they had first bound themselves together, married under elven law, married their souls together._

_Thranduil had not been certain if the elven bond would form between a mortal man and an elf, but it had, they had both felt it happen as they lost themselves in each other._

_When Thranduil reached their place, it was lit up with small paper lanterns which Bard must have made himself, casting warm light over the clearing and twinkling on the water. Bard was waiting for him with a blanket, a bottle of their favourite wine, and a smile._

_“Happy first anniversary meleth nín.” Bard had smiled when he arrived._

_Elves did not celebrate yearly anniversaries of things, such a fleeting amount of time for elves. But not for Bard and not for Thranduil._

_They made love under the stars and slept wrapped in each others’ arms, and when the morning came they rode around the forest laughing and chasing one another on their steeds. Thranduil had not felt so light and young and carefree in all his long years on Arda._

_It had been a wonderful night, they celebrated every anniversary thereafter, Thranduil never forgot any of them._

 

Thranduil’s face was damp as he woke, the memory of their first anniversary playing to him in his dream.

He remembered them riding around that morning, not a care in the world, just feeling the wind whipping through their hair and cradled around them and it almost felt like they could fly.

It made Thranduil want to go riding.

It had been a couple of weeks since he found the last letter, he always wore the emeralds, it made him make the effort to dress himself properly, to wind his hair into the mourning braids that he doubted he would ever remove.

The memory made him want to go riding.

Thranduil dressed himself and headed down towards the stables before he lost his energy.

Sirdal was waiting for him, but with every step he took, he flagged. The saddle and reigns in his arm felt like lead weights, too heavy to move. He felt his bravery leaving him.

He remembered his forest. His dying forest. The decay of Mirkwood. He did not want to see it.

Thranduil returned the saddle to its hook, he went to turn, to return to his rooms.

But then a letter slipped out from under the saddle.

Thranduil reached down onto the floor and picked it up.

 

**I agree, time to head outside.**

**And don’t you back out now because I left you something in Dale.**

**I’m not fighting fair I know, but outside is good! You used to love it so much, it was where you would go when you needed time alone, when you needed quiet and peace.**

**This darkness will pass, I know it will, but even now there are still places of light. Let your forest comfort you as it once did.**

**But for now, head to Dale.**

**You probably want more clues but I’m not giving you any, you’ll find it.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

 

Thranduil carefully fled the letter into his pocket with the others and did not hesitate as he saddled Sirdal and they raced off into the forest.

As they broke out of the stables Thranduil greedily gulped down huge lungful’s of the cool fresh air.

He had always loved the outdoors.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Sirdal galloped like there was no tomorrow, tearing his way through the forest. Thranduil knew Sirdal could sense his impatience, his desperation to get to Dale, that was why he was running so fast through the trees.

Trees. Yes they were trees but they were not green anymore. They were dark and decaying, broken and poisoned. Mirkwood. It deserved that new name. Thranduil found it hard to see anything of the Old Greeenwood. The Greenwood was dead, everything inside it was dying.

Even its king.  

The route was familiar to him, no matter how long it had been since he took it. No time at all to an elf, a long time to a mortal. Thranduil felt like he had these two perceptions of the same thing, of time, constantly pulling him in different directions.

It felt like it took so much longer to get to Dale than it ever had before, even though in reality he knew they were moving faster than they ever used to, the gentle rides he and Bard used to take so much longer even if it did not feel like it now.

Sirdal knew the way, he knew where they were going. Thranduil didn’t even need to guide him, he knew the route as well as Thranduil did. They had used to take it so often. Even in the later days when Thranduil could not be moved from Bard’s side they would just travel between their realms move from the woodland realm to Dale and Dale to the woodland realm whenever it was needed. But they were never parted. For the last five years of Bard’s life they had never been parted. Thranduil simply would not allow it.

He had been scared that Bard would die while he wasn’t there, that their final moments would be stolen from him. He had been scared that Bard would die in the night, Thranduil hadn’t slept much towards the end.

But Bard had died in his arms.

He could still feel him there, sometimes. How hard his final breaths had been. How the only thing Bard had been worried about was Thranduil. How he hadn’t let go until Thranduil had told him it was okay, even though it wasn’t okay, it wasn’t even remotely okay.

Thranduil still wasn’t okay. Bard was still the only thing keeping Thranduil, even though he was really gone.

All the letters were in Thranduil’s pocket as they rode, he never let them go.

He’d never let Bard go.

That was probably the problem.

They were getting close to Dale, Thranduil urged Sirdal to run faster still. It felt strange, entering Dale and knowing that Bard wasn’t there, he wasn’t with him, they weren’t here to see to the running of Dale. Sigrid and Bain did that now, although they were spending most of their time in Mirkwood with Thranduil. Probably a testament to how much they were worried about him.

Because really they should be here, looking after their city, not leaving it to advisors. Yet they stayed in Mirkwood, even though there was nothing they could do. They hadn’t been able to force Thranduil to eat or climb out of bed or to leave the palace. It had all been Bard’s gentle coaxing, his letters.

Thranduil realised then why they had stayed when they could do so little. They had not wanted to be away if their ada died as well. Legolas had no doubt warned them about what could happen.

He loved that they were there though, now he was getting better, bit by bit, moving, eating, it was good that they were there. It helped.  

Sirdal galloped into Dale and every head swung towards him. Most of them had looks of shock on their faces, whether just because he was there or because of the gaunt and wan look of his face these days he did not know, nor did he really care.

Sirdal slowed to a halt at the fountain in the middle of the plaza in Dale, Bard’s house just off to the left, small, battered, worn and home. It was a home. Not a palace. Thranduil had loved it. Still did. He wasn’t sure if he could go in.

Everything here held memories, he could almost hear Bard’s lilting laughter.   

 

_“Shhhhh.” Bard slurred, tripping over his own feet as they stumbled out of the great hall._

_Thranduil would forever deny that he stumbled._

_“This ‘s not fair!” Thranduil declared, one arm around Bard and both of them listing to the side._

_“Why not?” Bard laughed, trying to drag them in the general direction of the house and failing, probably because everything was spinning._

_“You di’n’t warn me that it was dorwininininon.” Thranduil mumbled, face smushed into Bard’s neck as he spoke._

_“I thought you knew!” Bard protested, trying and failing to coordinate his feet. “I always keep some ‘winion for you.” He grinned, pressing a sloppy kiss into Thranduil’s hair._

_“But I thought that w’s jus’ in your house! Not the great hall.” Thranduil moaned as they picked their way slowly across the courtyard._

_“Oh ‘m sorry. I shoulda told you.” Bard apologised, pouting at Thranduil (which was a bit of  role reversal to say the least)._

_“S’alright I forgive you.” Thranduil slurred attempting to kiss Bard and missing his mouth and landing on the very corner of it, making them both dissolve into laughter._

_Drunk and laughing and hanging onto each other as they stumbled across the courtyard meant that when Bard’s legs hit the back of the fountain and he fell, Thranduil went right with him._

_They sat up, wet and spluttering, the sculptures in the fountain squirting water all over them and drenching them further._

_They shared a startled look then started laughing even harder than they had been before._

_Thranduil splashed Bard and Bard splashed his right back and before long they were cackling and throwing as much water as they could at each other, falling around in the fountain._

_Thank goodness it was summer, because they woke up in that fountain, soaked and sober and with their family looking at them with their hands on their hips._

_“Uh, we can explain?” Thranduil tried, blinking the sleep out of his eyes._

_“Well we can tell you how we got here. But it’s still just as embarrassing.” Bard pointed out, trying to wring some of the water out of Thranduil’s dripping hair – which was rather pointless because they were still sat in the fountain which was still pouring more water on them._

_“That is true.” Thranduil agreed, a heavily pregnant Sigrid just rolled her eyes and threw towels at them._

_“Out the fountain. You’re both embarrassing.” She sighed, but a smile was tugging at her lips._

_“Aren’t dads supposed to be embarrassing?” Bard pointed out with a grin and he started to dry himself off, Thranduil doing the same with his own towel._

_“Well then you’re definitely succeeding.” She told them dryly, indicating to the giggling people all around the courtyard._

_“Okay, fair point, we should move.” Bard admitted, stepping out the fountain and Thranduil following suit._

_They ignored everyone’s laughing as they made their way inside the house hand in hand._

_Bard bumped their noses together playfully as he gently rubbed the towel over his long blonde hair._

 

Thranduil found himself smiling as he looked at the fountain, dismounting Sirdal and walking over to it, sitting on the edge and running his fingers in the water.

It was one of his favourite memories.

He had felt so light and so free. One of those rare occasions when Bard’s limited time hadn’t been constantly plaguing his thoughts, when they’d just been able to be happy. And by the Valar they had been happy, it was so easy to think that Bard’s mortality had tainted all their time together, but it hadn’t.

Most of the time, it had been out of Thranduil’s mind. He had learnt to live in the moment. And it had almost felt like it wasn’t quite possible, that of course Bard wasn’t going to die, like his elven heart and soul just could not comprehend the idea that their time was limited, unavoidably and despairingly limited.

The fountain incident (something they had been teased about constantly for weeks and was then pulled out on holidays for the family to laugh at as well) was one of his favourite and most vivid memories, forever preserving them as they really were in his mind.

They had been so silly sometimes, he had no idea how Bard had managed to find that part of him again, he had thought it so long buried after what had happened to his mother and father and wife. Yet Bard found it, of course he had, Thranduil had given him everything he was, and Bard had nurtured it, still was.

Thranduil sighed and let his hand rest in the cool water of the fountain, it seemed cold now.

He idly kicked a rock by his foot.

It moved to reveal a water damaged beaten up envelope.

A letter.

Thranduil scrambled to pick it up from the floor.   

The people of dale were watching him, they were trying to be discreet but they were mortals and therefore not as stealthy as they seemed to believe.

Thranduil did not care, he only cared about the letter, opening it as quickly as he could without breaking it.

 

**Hello my darling,**

**I’m sure this one is a little smudged with water by now, but I hope you can still read it.**

**I just wanted to ask you to please remember to visit Dale. This place holds so many happy memories for us, don’t allow them to be forgotten.**

**Dale itself would miss you too, you’ve done so much for it. We could never have rebuilt it without you. The plants grow and flourish because of you, the people are happier because of you, you may not be its king, but you are an important part of this place.**

**And I know they don’t need it, but keep an eye on Sigrid as she begins to rule. I know she is completely competent and Dale could not ask for a better queen, but she’ll still need help, she’ll always need her ada.**

**I know you’re in Dale looking for what I left you in Dale, and although I did leave you this it is not what I sent you here for. For that you need to go into our house.**

**Forever yours,**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

 

Thranduil smiled and look around the city, he was so proud of this place, and he knew Bard was as well. Sometimes Bard would just get this dopey grin on his face looking out of his city, unable to believe that he had actually managed it, although he had always insisted that they had managed it together.  

Bain had not wanted the kingship, or he had but believed Sigrid would be a better ruler than he. They had decided that they would rule together, although Sigrid would hold the title of Queen, Bain was far more interested in the defence and protection of the city than the administrative side of things, so they split the responsibilities, and it worked well.

Thranduil would not forget this place, he had never imagined it would hold so much meaning to him. When the original Dale had burned, he had not had an emotional reaction to it, he could not prevent it or save them, but he had not lost any sleep over it.

Now he knew he would defend this place just with just as much fervour as he would his own realm.

They were one realm now really, to Thranduil’s mind anyway.

Thranduil rose from his perch on the fountain and looked warily up at the house. Somehow it felt wrong to go in without him, without his Bard.

But Thranduil gripped the letters tight, Bard was with him, Bard would always be with him.

He drew his strength from the letters as he always did these days, and walked towards the house, their house.

It was so familiar to him, and yet now it felt alien somehow.

He walked through the rooms looking for what Bard had left him and Bard was right, he knew it when he saw it.

His royal circlet, the one Bard had made for him.

He started to cry.

 

_“Thran, stop just listen to me.” Bard pleaded, standing in the doorway, stopping Thranduil from being able to storm out._

_“Let me go Bard!” Thranduil grit out, not prepared to push him out the way, not with his injury. He wouldn’t have been able to push him anyway._  

_“No, we need to talk about it.” Bard pressed, trying to rest his hand against Thranduil’s chest, only for him to move away further._

_“No. You need to sit down and I need to leave.” Thranduil ground out, the disease in Bard’s heart making him weak, he should not be standing._

_“I’ll sit down if you promise not to leave.” Bard replied, effectively backing Thranduil into a corner._

_“Just sit down.” Thranduil answered, voice strained, he wanted to be out of this room, this house. He couldn’t cope right now._

_But at least Bard was sitting down now._

_“We need to talk about it.” Bard repeated, voice trying so hard to be gentle about it for Thranduil. But Thranduil didn’t want to hear it._

_“What is there to talk about! You’ve clearly made up your mind, you’ve clearly already decided to let yourself die.” Thranduil spat._

_He shouldn’t be causing Bard stress. It would make it worse. But what did it matter if he’d already made this decision to die._

_“It’s okay Thran, it was going to happe– ” Bard tried to reach out, his hand was wrinkled._

_“It’s not okay!” Thranduil screamed, making Bard flinch, he’d never made Bard flinch before, he didn’t like it, it didn’t stop him. “Do you think I’m going to be okay? You think its okay to just lie back and let yourself die? You think that won’t destroy me. It is not okay! Why won’t you let me take you to Rivendell? I don’t understand! Elrond could save you, you must let him.” Thranduil continued, he could see his words cutting into Bard._

_“I’m old Thran, I know we were hoping for longer, but I am old. I know Elrond could probably save me, but that will still not give us forever. I am old Thran, my time is up.” Bard spoke softly, tears were tracking down Thranduil’s face._

_He was so angry._

_He was so sad._

_He wasn’t ready._

_“But it doesn’t have to be! You’re letting it be. Why do you want to leave me here before you have to! Do you not love me anymore.” Thranduil shouted through his tears, letting his anger from his hurt overwhelm him._

_He knew Bard still loved him._

_“Of course I still love you Thran, please don’t say things like that.” Bard begged, reaching out again, but Thranduil was inconsolable in that moment._

_He needed to break something._

_“Then does it just mean so little to you.” He growled through his tears. “Does everything we are mean nothing.” He demanded, tearing the royal circlet from his head._

_Bard had had it made as an anniversary gift, designed it himself, had messages of love engraved in the inside, and pure clear gems inlaid. It was the only one Thranduil wore now._

_“Did this mean nothing?” He half sobbed and half shouted._

_Thranduil threw it across the room with all the force he could muster, Bard stood as fast as his age would allow him, gasping, tears welling in his own eyes._

_The circlet smashed against the wall._

_Thranduil broke down, crumpled on to the floor, sobbing and shaking and crying out._

_“I’m sorry Bard. I’m so sorry. I did not mean it. I cant – hate me, never speak to me, condem me just please do not leave me. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to break it. I, I – ” Eventually Thranduil’s words were lost amidst his tears, sobs wracking his whole body._

_Two familiar arms wrapped around him as Bard sat on the floor behind him and started rocking Thranduil against his chest, hushing him, soothing him._

_“I-I’m sorry. I’m not r-ready. Not yet. N-not yet.” Thranduil shook out around his tears, Bard holding him as tight as he could manage._

_“I am sorry meleth nín, I did not think.” Bard murmured, voice trembling with his own tears. “I am sorry. Of course, of course I will go to Rivendell. I am sorry. Please, I am sorry.” Bard soothed, face pressed against Thranduil’s hair, making it wet with his own tears._

_Thranduil had gripped Bard’s tunic so tight he had torn it._

_The circlet lay smashed on the floor._

 

Thranduil picked it up with quaking hands. He had no idea how it was there, how he was seeing it. It shouldn’t be possible, he had smashed it.

He had smashed it and hated himself every day for it.

Bard had had it fixed. Of course he had. He fixed everything. Even now he was fixing things.

Thranduil could only imagine how long it had taken him to collect up every piece. It was the old one, not a reproduction, he knew.

Bard must have taken it to the dwarves to be fixed, because there is was.

Touching it made it real.

There was a letter next to it.

 

**My beautiful Thran,**

**That day was when I realised you would never be ready, when I started planning these letters for you.**

**I am sorry I ever put you through so much that you broke this, but while broken it was not lost, and neither are you without me.**

**But I am still with you.**

**Always remember my darling; _melithon le anuir_. Nothing on arda could ever stop that, not time or distance, and certainly not death.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

****

Thranduil clutched the circlet and letter to his chest as he lowered himself to the floor, legs unable to hold him up anymore.

He wondered if he would ever run out of tears. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just cause I think it sounds a little like it might be I wanna clarify that this is not the last letter Thranduil finds) 
> 
> There are two or possibly three chapters left depending on how things decide to write themselves ^^
> 
> Comments and Kudos mean the world to me <3


	5. Chapter 5

 

It had been a while since he found the last letter, he did not know how long because he did not keep the days anymore, but a season had changed and the winter was almost through.

He had been back to Dale once, Sigrid had had to return for a little while to see to some things and Thranduil had suggested that he might accompany her, Sigrid had smiled and told him that nothing would make her happier. Dale was still a flood of memories, he tried to remember them in a happy light, not let the weigh for his sorrow taint them, for the most part he was able.

Thranduil thought Bard would be proud of him, it kept him moving forwards.

Their second great-grandchild was born and Thranduil had smiled a true smile as he held her and she wrapped her chubby little hand around his finger. She had Bard’s eyes, he never wanted to let her go, and for the most part he didn’t, it was more common for the little one to sleep in Thranduil’s arms than in her crib, no one seemed to mind. He told her about her great-grandfather, all the amazing things he had done, the big and the small, he told her that she had his eyes. He told her how much he missed him and she would gurgle and hiccup in his arms and it helped.

He wished for another letter, knew there must be one, Bard would never just leave him without saying goodbye. But he didn’t know where it was and he didn’t know how to find it. He just had to wait.

The worst part of the day was the morning, just as he woke.

Because for a split second he would forget, and he would reach out his arm to find his husband only to discover the bed cold and empty and he would remember and he would allow tears to track down his face, but only for a few minutes, or he would not manage to get up that day at all.

He still sometimes wished to just fall asleep and never wake again.

His soul had been torn when his wife died and torn again with Bard and he was just trying to find enough of it to go on, if there was enough of it left. He feared that the only reason he woke up in the mornings was because somewhere, and some point, he would find another letter.  He feared what would happen when they stopped, because he did not know himself, he barely even recognised himself.

The looking glass seemed to show him a stranger.

 

_Thranduil was jolted awake but the roaring laughter of Bard as he entered the room, blinking away the sleep from his eyes and looking over to the entrance of the room to see Bard doubled over with laughter._

_“What?” Thranduil asked, not seeing what was quite so hilarious._

_“Thran, darlin’, what is on your face?” Bard managed around his laughter and that was when Thranduil remembered._

_A certain grandchild had discovered some of her mother’s make up and wanted to test it out on her grandada who was terrible at ever saying no. And Thranduil could not remember taking it off before he had fallen asleep (and in the middle of the afternoon apparently), although where the troublesome child had gone was anyone’s guess really._

_“I believe I got a makeover from Asta.” Thranduil grumbled, realising now how sticky his face felt, but all he really felt was fondness. “Does it suit me?” He teased, quirked eyebrow and sending Bard back into more laughter._

_“I think you have finally discovered about the only thing in the world that does not suit you.” Bard snorted and Thranduil rolled his eyes, climbing off the bed and heading to the basin to wash his face off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass and nearly jumped with fright._

_“Better?” Thranduil asked when his face was clean._

_“Perfection.” Bard agreed, pressing a gentle kiss on Thranduil’s now clean cheek. “I came to ask, that as you’re saving that gorgeous bottle of ancient dorwinion you have stashed away for a special occasion, whether or not tonight counts as a special occasion.” Bard teased._

_“Why would tonight be special?” Thranduil asked, seeing the little twinkle in Bard’s eye that he loved beyond measure._

_“Because I have it on good authority that your wonderful husband intends to spoil you rotten for no reason other than that he wants to.” Bard replied, voice playful and leaving Thranduil in no doubt about what he was going to be treated to this evening._

_“Sounds like a very special occasion to me.” Thranduil answered seriously, making Bard laugh again and kiss him._

_“Come on then, show me where you’ve got it hidden.” Bard said, taking Thranduil’s hand and making their way down to the wine cellar._

_Thranduil loved the smell of the wine cellar, especially deep in its depths, the rich and fruity smell of wine mixed with the fresh smell of wood. Bard always teased him for liking it down there so much, jokingly bemoaning that he loved his wine more than he loved him and Thranduil would swat him and prove just how much he loved him._

_When they reached the depths of the wine cellar there was a blanket and cushions laid out on the floor with little candles around it, a picnic basket and Bard pulling out the ancient bottle of dorwinion that he had apparently already located himself._

_He finished off the moment by waggling his eyebrows at Thranduil and startling a laugh out of him, he really was a ridiculous man._

_That night in the wine cellar had been a good one, wine and fruit and chocolate and Bard._

 

Thranduil remembered the moment fondly, he was glad that was when they had drunk that perfect bottle of wine, just because they had wanted to. He had barely been able to think of wine since Bard had died, it was wrapped up with too many happy funny memories they had made together it had made him almost sick to his stomach just to smell.  

But now he wanted to go down there again, rediscover those memories of theirs, find Bard’s favourite vintage, and have a drink.

Maybe it was a bad idea, after his wife Thranduil had drowned himself in wine, had barely come up for air, but now he felt like he wanted to, to remember instead of to forget, so he went.

Through his winding halls and down the spiralling stairs until he found his cellar. He trailed his hand over the bottles as he walked, looking for the one Bard had loved best, one of the richer, stronger vintages.

He found the bottle and pulled it out and a letter dropped onto the floor.

Thranduil almost dropped the wine bottle in his haste to pick up the letter, it had been too long since the last one.

 

**Hello my darling,**

**I am so glad you have finally realised that this is the best vintage, maybe your taste in wine isn’t so bad after all.**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

The letter startled a laugh out of Thranduil, Bard sending him cheek from beyond the grave, he didn’t know what else he expected really. Shaking his head and smiling Thranduil carried the bottle back to their room and poured to goblets of wine.

The vintage always was one of the worst, he had never really liked it, but drinking it now, he couldn’t help but smile. There really had been something drastically from with Bard’s wine taste buds, but then this was a man who enjoyed drinking mead so he had clearly been misguided.

Thranduil smiled softly to himself as he drank, tipping his head back against the chair he was sat in, the empty one that used to be Bard’s set across from him as he closed his eyes.

“I miss you meleth nín.” Thranduil sighed. “There is a weight on my chest that refuses to get lighter save for the fleeting moments your letter give me, the strength a gain from waiting for the next.”

There were slow tears making their way down Thranduil’s face, stinging slightly in the old scars he could no longer find the energy to keep hidden.

Salt in the wound.

“I fear your plan won’t work my love, that the letters will stop and I will anyway, despite all you have done. I am not even sure what I want to happen.”

Thranduil confided his fears into the ghost that seemed to fill the room, the whisper of his husband that the room always retained.

“I am tired and I ache for you and I _miss you_.”  

Thranduil cried alone in the dark room, as he did so often these days.

 

More weeks passed and the spring approached, it had once been his favourite time of year, but he found little joy in it now, his forest was so broken.

Perhaps he should leave for a while, visit somewhere else. Bardd had always enjoyed travelling, was always pestering Thranduil for them to go places, teasing him and calling him a hermit even though they both knew that he would take Bard wherever he wanted to go.

And indeed they had seen much of the word, as much of it as was safe anyway, growing darkness that Thranduil would not go near were not places he was willing to go, not that Bard wanted to travel there anyway.

They had visited The Shire, Thranduil had always thought it beautiful, so green and rich and alive, everything his Greenwood used to be. It felt like a haven away from the world, it was hard to imagine darkness ever spreading there, it was just a shame everything was so small. Bard had laughed a lot as Thranduil repeatedly hit his head on various things, not that Bard was much better, although apparently it was just funnier when ‘the graceful Elvenking’ did it.

Thranduil did not like Lothlórien, did not trust the elves there, he had attempted to give Bard a history lesson once, and for the most part he seemed to retain it, but it was long and convoluted and something he wished he could forget anyway. But Bard had wanted to see the Golden Wood so of course Thranduil had taken him there anyway, and despite his mistrust of the inhabitants, there was no denying its splendour.

The Kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan had placed host to them once as well, referring to them jointly as the great kings of the north, Thranduil had liked that, the way it had made them sound like one, which is what they felt like to each other.

Rivendell had seen them visit on multiple occasions, Bard knew that Thranduil actually liked to go there, enjoyed seeing Elrond, one of the few people her permitted to be friends. Elrond always seemed happy to have them, putting up with their antics valiantly as was his lot as the lord of the last homey house this side of the sea.

He should visit his friend more often, he was no doubt worried. Thranduil hadn’t taken his letters in a long while, not unless they were from Bard, he suddenly felt guilty for that.

 

_“How much further is it?” Bard asked, slight whine in his voice, he had never been a fan of riding long distances._

_“Honestly Bard you are like an elfiling, always so impatient.” Thranduil answered, laughter ringing through his words, which only grew as Bard stuck his tongue out at him. “That is hardly disproving my point.” He then pointed out, Bard huffed._

_“Seriously, are we five minutes away? Five more hours? A day?” Bard asked again, bringing his horse into step alongside Sirdal._

_“About thirty seconds meleth nín.” Thranduil smiled and Bard got excited much like an elfling, sometimes Thranduil forgot how little of the word Bard had had the chance to see, and indeed if it hadn’t been for Thorin Oakenshield and a certain dragon he probably would have lived his entire life in that dreadful Laketown._

_Bard galloped ahead, coming to a halt a small way ahead, presumably when Imladris had come into view. Thranduil caught up at his own pace, smiling to himself at the look of awe spreading on Bard’s face, this really was the best view of the valley, it had been deliberate of Thranduil to bring them in this way._

_They had rode together down to the entrance where they were greeted by a surprised looking Lindir, only to be replaced by an even more surprised, but noticeably happily surprised Elrond._

_“Mae govannen mellonamin.” Elrond greeted him with a warm smile, grasping his forearm, it had been a long time even for elves that Thranduil had made the trip, but the friendship that existed between them was still strong. “And this must be Bard, new King of Dale.” Elrond greeted Bard in the same way, the news of their relationship having clearly already made it to Imladris._

_“I see you still do not bother to let me know you are coming.” Elrond commented with a raised eyebrow at Thranduil who just smirked._

_“I am sure you can accommodate us, even on short notice.” Thranduil_

_“Bard yes, but you I may throw in the stables.” Elrond said and his tone was scolding but Thranduil knew it was only meant in jest._

_“I would love to see you try.” Thranduil laughed and he saw the surprise in Bard’s face, he had never seen him so at ease with someone who was not family he supposed._

_“I must thank you Bard, I was beginning to wonder if Thranduil had gotten lost in that forest of his.” Elrond said to Bard as they walked through the halls and they proceeded to tease Thranduil for being a shut in for a while._

_He spent the days with Bard, following him with an easy and affectionate smile as he explored every corner of Imladris and the surrounding valleys, everything just felt so right with Bard, activities that would have bored him with anyone else were endlessly fascinating to him, or maybe it was Bard that fascinated him, he liked to see him happy._

_They took their evening meal with Elrond and his children each day, who between them had an endless supply of stories to tell, many of which Thranduil had heard before but none of which Bard had, and he was constantly enthralled and entertained by the twins’ escapades in the world, so Thranduil did not mind hearing them again._

_Before they left, Thranduil invited Elrond to their joining, the large wedding Sigrid and Tilda seemed determined to throw them. Elrond had accepted immediately. Thranduil understood, he was happy to see Thranduil happy again, it had been a very long time._

_Thranduil had helped Elrond through Celebrian’s torment, and Elrond had helped him through the loss of his wife, and he would help him through Bard’s as well, it was written in his eyes every time Thranduil saw him._

_They rode home, back to the forest and Dale, to a brood of disgruntled children who demanded that they were not left behind next time they went to visit Rivendell._

 

Thranduil sat in the dining hall with his family, recalling happier times as they felt safe to do now, none of the terrified to even mention Bard now, no longer scared it would shatter him. They had a large family, four children, five grandchildren, and now two grandchildren as well, Thranduil could not tell them how much it meant to him that they were all with him, the newest edition curled up in his arms as she often was, making those strange baby noises that Thranduil would never tire of.

They were all chattering and eating their breakfast together as Thranduil cooed to little Meera, rocking her gently in his arms, murmuring to her in elvish as she dozed, when Brand came clattering into the room with all the grace of a group of dwarves.

Thranduil was about to grumble at him for disturbing the baby before he saw what Brand was so excited about.

“It arrived just now.” he panted, apparently having run all the way across the palace to get the letter to them faster.

Thranduil took the letter and shifted Meera gently so he could open it, everyone holding their best and resisting the urge to read over his shoulder as he carefully took it out of the envelope.

 

**Good morning my love,**

**I hope you are feeling energetic because it is time to pack a bag (or ten knowing you).**

**Get the family together – and yes, I mean all of our giant brood – because Elrond is expecting you and it is just poor etiquette to be late.**

**As well as a good friend for you waiting for you there, I might have a couple of letters stashed away over there for you to find as an extra incentive for you to move your royal ass…**

**Forever yours,**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le Melin_ **

****

“What does it say ada?” Tilda asked, her hands visibly itching to take a look at it herself.

“Your da is taking us on holiday one last time it seems.” Thranduil smiled, watching as all the faces around the table lit up and he passed the letter over to Tilda.

“Where are we going?” Hallam asked trying to read the letter over his aunt’s shoulder.

“Rivendell.” Tilda announced to them all, handing the letter on, all of them so careful with it.

After that everyone started racing around to get their things together, and Thranduil found himself sat in the dining room alone with little Meera once again, smiling down at her scrunched up face, playing with her tiny feet that were kicking around randomly like babies did.

“Will he ever stop looking out for me?” Thranduil asked her, getting a coherent gurgle in response.

And for the first time Thranduil knew, that even after the letters stopped, if Thranduil found a way to go on, Bard would always be looking after him.

He had promised after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and a possible epilogue to go then peeps ^^ 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my life <3


	6. Chapter 6

 

Thranduil had almost forgotten how loud and lively his family was, having been so quiet and careful around him for so long. But on the journey to Rivendell they reminded him as they bickered and shouted and joked and laughed and ran and galloped and just _lived_.

It was good to see them like this, it reminded him how it should be, how he used to be, he hoped he could find it again someday, but for now, just watching them was enough. It had to be.

He felt like he was lingering on the periphery of life.

He was living, but not really alive anymore, he hoped that would change, that time would help him find the way.

They were are large entourage on the road, they were thirteen including Tauriel who had insisted on coming along, and Thranduil believed that had far more to do with her desire to see Rivendell than it did with them needing protection. They were not a family of warriors, but each one of them were fighters, Thranduil had made sure of it. He knew a darkness was coming, and he would not leave his family unprotected, so he had taught them to fight.

It was a slower journey than it could have been, with so many of them and two little ones, but Thranduil didn’t mind, he found he wasn’t in a hurry, he was content to just be with his family, glad that they were with him, they made it all easier.

All of Bard’s letters were safely folded and tucked into the deep inside pocket of his robe, sitting over his heart, he felt warm in a way he had felt cold for a long time now.

They rode and Thranduil smiled as he watched them, Hallam was challenging Tilda to a race, and though she might be much older now, Thranduil knew Hallam didn’t stand the slightest chance of beating her, she was still the fastest rider in the north, Thranduil would probably only beat her because Sirdal is so much faster than any horse.

Sigrid and Bain were bickering as siblings should up ahead, Thranduil could hear if he wanted it, it wasn’t about anything important, in fact it sounded like it was over who could throw a rock furthest, apparently when with your siblings, you never really grew up, Thranduil loved that. Legolas on his own horse had fallen into step beside Asta laughing about some story she was telling, it seemed to involve Thora and something amusing the little toddler had done, Bard remembered watching her and her always managing to do something naughty, no matter how closely he watched her, but he never told her off, he just laughed and would scoop her up and tell her not to tell ma.

Thranduil rode quietly, as he often did, smiling to himself and with a warm feeling in his chest, he would not trade his family for anything in the world, he just wished there was a way to keep them forever, eventually he would be alone again and he could barely stomach the thought.

Thranduil wondered if it was a side effect of mortality, being so very alive. Bard always had been, the whole family was, maybe it was because they did not have the luxury of time, they couldn’t afford to be slow and measured, they had a limited time and they _lived_. More and more Thranduil believed elves could learn a few things from them.

 

_“Thran, darlin’ you need to calm down.” Bard told him, looking none too calm himself, as his paced across the stone floor, he wqas surprised he hadn’t worn tracks into it yet._

_“You’re hardly calm either.” Thranduil snapped, but Bard knew it was from impatience and worry rather than aimed specifically at him._

_“At least I’m internalising it a bit better.” Bard pointed out._

_“How can you do that? It’s Sigrid in there!”_

_“Yes, and she has the very best healers in with her because someone wrote to Elrond as if someone was dying.” Bard pointed out with a raised eyebrow._

_“Well I needed to make sure he hurried and got here in time.” Thranduil grumbled, not even a little bit sorry for taking the precaution, no matter what anyone said about him over-worrying, he knew one person that was entirely grateful and that was Sigrid._

_“She’s going to be fine Thran, this is a happy time.” Bard smiled, which turned into a grimace as a string of painful shouts and screams came from the other side of the door, Thranduil was about ready to burst through the doors, but Bard caught his hand._

_“There’s nothing you can do that the healers can’t Thran. Now come and sit next to me and hold my hand.” Bard demanded and Thranduil huffed but obeyed, the feeling of Bard’s hand in his own grounding him from his worry._

_He knew Bard was a little worried as well, but he was also excited, not that Thranduil wasn’t, just that he had heard things about mortals and how easily they died in this situation and so the excitement was having a hard time outweighing the worry right now._

_But he managed to keep still, he and Bard gripping each other’s hand tight, waiting for the news and trying not to panic at the various painfilled noises on the other side of the door. Eventually, after what felt like hours, Sigrid’s shouts stopped, and Thranduil heard something else, it was ever so quiet and small._

_A little whining cry._

_“What is it?” Bard asked, still gripping Thranduil’s hand, Thranduil realised he was smiling and there was a tear on his cheek._

_“We’re grandparents.” Thranduil smiled and Bard let out a relieved and happy laugh, throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck and they gathered each other up into a hug._

_After a little while Sigrid’s husband opened the door and beckoned them in with an elated smile and there she was, sweaty and tired and smiling down at the smallest person Thranduil had ever seen swaddled up in her arms._

_She was so small, he knew that Legolas had been that small once, but that was so long past that it was difficult to recall, even for him, and even so he was sure this was a particularly tiny baby, or maybe that was just another part of being mortal._

_Bard held the little bundle in his arms and cooed and rocked her and Thranduil marvelled at how good he was at it, how natural and maybe it was a blessing that they could not have children of their own because it might have been too much for his heart to witness._

_“DO you want to hold her?” Bard asked and Thranduil shook his head quickly. “Why not?” Bard pushed gently, standing close by him with the baby._

_“She is so small, I could hurt her, I’ve not done this in so long, I won’t be as good as you at it she’ll– ” But before Thranduil could finish his long list of worries, Bard was carefully moving the baby into his arms and Thranduil was mesmerised._

_She was so small._

_Her little eyes were still screwed shut and her nose was so tiny and she had the softest brush of brown hair and was the most perfect thing Thranduil had ever seen._

_“What’s her name?” Thranduil whispered without moving his eyes from the baby in his arms, finding the moment so fragile._

_“Asta.” Sigrid smiled from the bed, he could hear her smile in her voice, she was going to be the most wonderful mother._

_“That is a good name.”_

 

Elrond was ready and waiting to greet them when they arrived, some of his household staff ready to take their bags and show everyone to their rooms, doing their best not to look overwhelmed by the family of loud mortals that had just turned up, and honestly Tauriel and Legolas found their vigour so infectious that they were just as loud themselves when around the family. Many of them looking utterly captivated by the toddler and baby with them, children being so rare among the elves.

Elrond greeted him and did not scold him for not answering his letters, merely walked beside him and offered his quiet support, it meant a lot  

Thranduil had been given a room, but requested to be allowed to stay in the one he and Bard had shared on their previous visits, Elrond nodded and sent some elves off to change the arrangements. He stayed outside with Elrond as the elves quickly set up the room, he suspected the only reason he had not been given that room before was because they had been worried it would hurt him more than help him, but he liked to be where he and Bard had been, he liked to remember.

He and Elrond did not say much, they just shared company sat out in one of the beautiful gardens. When the room was ready Thranduil left his friend, meaning to change out of his riding clothes, he understood his friend’s smile when he reached his room and found a letter waiting for him on the vanity table inside.

Thranduil smiled and swept over to the table, picking up the letter and opening it carefully.

 

**Hello my love,**

**You made it! And I hope the family is with you as I instructed, otherwise the whining when you get home again will be unending – do you remember how much they scolded us the first time we went without them?**

**Anyway, enough about going home, you only just got here. Remember to come here, I have Elrond under orders to not let you completely hermit yourself again, you need people Thran, and if you can’t let anyone new in right now, then make sure you hold on to the ones you already have, and let them hold on to you too.**

**I always loved this place, so much so I was willing to make the long ride as often as we could, thank you for indulging me so often in so many ways, including our visits here.**

**Can you do me a favour? Will you go see the waterfall for me again – you know the one I mean – I never get tired of seeing it, go see it once more, for me.**

**Forever yours**

**_P.S. Le melin._ **

Thranduil smiled, knowing exactly the place Bard meant and he picked up a towel from the washroom before heading down and out of the house, towards the waterfall. Many people saw him pass, but it seemed they only need see the letter in his hand to leave him be to quietly go wherever Bard was taking him.

It truly was a beautiful place, the waterfall and the little lagoon at its base, they had gone swimming there the first time they visited, and then every time after. They would swim while the water was warm, just eth two of them, then they would climb out and stretch out side by side on the grass, letting the sun dry them.

Bard had plaited his hair after they had climbed out of the water on one visit, and the next day it had fallen in soft and smooth little waves that had looked utterly ridiculous on him, Bard had found it endlessly amusing.

Thranduil set down his towel on the pool’s edge and pulled off his boots, rolling up his legging and shifting his robes out the way so that he could dangle his legs into the clear blue water.

“I am sure this place is as beautiful as it always was meleth nín.” Thranduil murmured into the wind. “But it seems like it is missing something now, its beauty dulled to me along with the rest of the world.” The slight breeze seemed to gather around him, as if it was trying to comfort him.

But Bard had always been right, when he called this spot one of the most tranquil and beautiful in all of Middle Earth, Thranduil was happy to have been the one to share it with him then and happy again to be able to share it with him once more now, even if the happiness had turned from blissful to bittersweet, it was still happiness, Bard had found a way to return so happiness to his world.

He stayed out there a long while, until the waters grew cold with the night, the spring unable to warm them enough during the day for it to last into the night. He dried his lower legs with the towel and pulled his boots back on, heading back up to the last homely house, and feeling like he had somehow had another piece of Bard returned to him, another piece of himself.

He smiled as he walked.

 

A few weeks passed in Imladris, Thranduil spending his time surrounded by his family and his oldest friend. He let them drag him places and joined in when they asked and honestly it wasn’t a hardship anymore, it wasn’t a fight to move except in the first moments of the day, in those small moments that he allowed himself to feel the full weight of his loss before getting up and moving through the day.  

He was sat in one of the beautiful gardens of Imladris, beside his friend, enjoying the warming weather and blooming flowers that surrounded them, and for the first time, he felt he was more at ease than his friend.

“What is it my friend?” Thranduil asked softly when he saw the growing concern etched into Elrond’s face as he watched his daughter and the scruffy young man Thranduil knew to be Aragorn in the distance.

“I fear for her.” Elrond said and Thranduil knew why. “What she faces almost destroyed you, it broke you in so many ways. I cannot bear the thought that her future holds the same.”

“It was cruel of fate to make some of us immortal and others mortal.” Thranduil answered quietly, he would never forgive fate for making them so, he took a deep breath and continued. “To love a mortal is its own kind of pain, and wound that grows deeper as more time passes. It hurts and it cuts through you and it leaves you broken and flayed open. And it is fleeting, and it is perfect. I lived more in my short time with Bard than I ever did in all the ages that came before, and no matter what pain.” Thranduil swallowed thickly, pushing back his tears. “No matter what eternal scars is has left me with, it was worth it, it was worth everything.”

Elrond nodded slowly, though he did not seem convinced, Thranduil understood, to watch one’s own child walk towards that kind of despair, and to go to it happily. But Arwen was strong willed, and they both knew she would do what her heart told her, no matter Elrond’s own reservations.

It reminded Thranduil of a conversation he and Bard had had, both a long time ago and far too recently.

 

_“You look anxious Bard, what plagues your mind?” Thranduil asked, wishing nothing more than to be able to banish whatever thoughts were causing his conflicted and worried expression._

_“Are you sure?” He answered, which made little sense without context._

_“About what?” Thranduil asked, sipping on his wine and watching Bard over the rim of his glass, sat just a little way down the small sofa in his house in Dale._

_“About this, us, me.” Bard clarified, and he raced on before Thranduil had a chance to answer. “I mean, you’re immortal Thran, and we’re not in too deep yet I mean what is even going to happen when I die, because it is very much when and not if and I’m just not sure if I can do that to you Thran, I can’t leave you behind like that, I can’t hurt you like that.”_

_“Why can’t you?” Thranduil answered calmly._

_“Because I love you.” Bard told him, so earnestly and so simply that Thranduil did not even bother to try and hide his smile._

_“And that is why I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” Thranduil told him, setting aside his goblet of wine and leaning forward to kiss Bard, something he had only started doing but hoped to be able to do for the rest of Bard’s life._

_“But thran one day I’m going to– ”_

_“I know. And when that times comes it will rip me apart and it will hurt me and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it will have been worth it.” Thranduil cut him off, tucking himself down under Bard’s arm, resting his head on Bard’s strong chest._

_“But how can I let you do that, how can I allow myself to cause you so much hurt.” Bard whispered into Thranduil’s hair._

_“You cannot protect me from it Bard. I already love you.” Thranduil sighed, settling against Bard, his Bard, and letting his eyes start to droop shut._

_“I’ll find a way to make it better. I promise.” Bard told him and Thranduil believed him._

_“You already have made it better, made me better. I was a ghost when we met.” Thranduil told him honestly, he had forgotten what it was to live before Bard._

_“I love you. I know it is early still but I think I will love you forever.” Bard murmured, arms holding Thranduil firm and fast against his chest._

_“And I you meleth nín.” Thranduil breathed, falling into sleep with Bard’s arms around him._

 

The dinners in Rivendell were possibly Thranduil’s favourite times these days. Everyone was always there, their entire family, arguing over the food and who got the last piece of something and playing jokes on each other and reminiscing with smiles on their faces.

Elladan and Elrohir had entertained everyone with many tales of Bard and Thranduil’s visits in the past and Thranduil let the memories fill him up and keep him warm during his lonely nights. Elrond sat to his left and Tilda to his right and Meera filled the space in his arm and somehow, the void Bard had left in his heart, his soul, seemed more manageable than it had before.

Hallam was throwing a pepper to Asta and Thora was crawling on the table and Tilda was bickering with Sigrid and Bain was laughing with Brand and Meera was gurgling in that way of hers and Thranduil was smiling.

He was smiling.

And ever so subtly, one of the many elves of Imladris slipped a letter in front of Thranduil, no one else around the table had even notice.

Slowly and quietly, Thranduil opened the letter. There were tear stains on the parchment, smudging the ink in places.

 

**My darling Thran,**

**You knew this letter had to come and I dreaded writing it but I knew I must. I could never just leave you without saying goodbye.**

**And now that the time is here I find I do not know what to say. How do you say goodbye in one letter, how to you thank someone for the lifetime of joy they gave in just one letter.**

**I cannot find the words, they are lost to me. Perhaps because there are none, none that encompass how much you meant to me, how much I loved and still love you, none that sufficiently describe how much happiness you brought me, how much life you gave me, how much you made me live for every day.**

**I do not want to say goodbye, I never wanted to say goodbye. But we knew from the very start that we would have to one day, but now that it is here I do not believe it is truly goodbye because I will never forget you.**

**The thought that we will have a last kiss, a last embrace, a**

**I hope you were right all those years ago, I hope it was worth it, worth everything. Know that it was for me, you were my whole word and although this is goodbye I will always be with you and you with me, for I hold you in my heart and neither time nor death could ever take you away from there.**

**Goodbye my love.**

**Forever yours**

**Bard**

**_P.S. Le melin_ **

 

Thranduil was crying, his own tears mixing with Bard’s on the parchment, and everyone was quiet and watching him sadly and little Meera wrapped her hand around one of Thranduil’s fingers and he cried.

It wasn’t okay and he wasn’t okay, Bard had made it better, just like he had promised, he had made it better, and Thranduil was still here.

Somehow, he was still here.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beauties, just the epilogue to go now, and it is only short, so I will post it on Monday instead of making you wait a week <3
> 
> Comments and kudos are my life blood <3


	7. Epilogue

 

“Are you okay ada?” Meera asked, as they made their way to the docks with last of the woodland elves to depart this earth.

She had always called him ada, apparently it was just easier than great-grandada, they had always been close, they both knew why.

She was not sailing with them, but she had not wanted him to make the journey to the docks alone. Legolas and he had said their goodbyes, and they were sad and heartfelt, though Thranduil believed with all his heart he would see his son again, he would find a way to Valinor even after all the boats had gone.  

“Just a little melancholy pen-neth.” Thranduil answered and it was true, but it was also a word that could usually be attributed to him.

He was not so sad any more, he had happy moments, had them every day in fact. Bard had taught him how to be okay again, and he had never left his side, not really. 

“I have not been so little in a long while ada.” Meera smiled, linking her arm through Thranduil’s and commenting on his name for her, little one, she would always be his little one.

“You always will be to me.” Thranduil told her and she smiled that warm smile of her at him again.

They were almost at the docks, it would not be long before he left these shores behind. He had offered a place on one of the ships to Meera, but she had gently refused, her place was here, they both knew it, no matter how much they would miss each other. 

They reached the docks and the ship that would take him away from Middle Earth was beautiful, pure white an intricately carved.

The sole possessions Thranduil took with him were the clothes he was wearing, Bard’s circlet on his head, and the letters in his pocket. He felt lighter than he had done in an age.

The elves boarded the ship until he was the only one left on land, he looked to his great-granddaughter and he didn’t know what to say.

But she did, she always did, even when it had just been to gurgle and babble nonsense. She had always known what to say.

“It’s okay.” She said. “I know.” She had always known.

He gathered her up into the hug she had never stopped calling a ‘bear hug’ and held her close and said goodbye, and it was like she had always told him, that a parting of the ways was better than another loss.  

“I will miss you.” He told her and he felt her nod, she would miss him too.

Finally he let her go and he made his way slowly towards the boat.

Thranduil turned as he went to step onto the ship, a lump heavy in his throat.

“When you see him, tell him– ” Thranduil swallowed thickly around his words. “Tell him.” he shook his head and a tear escaped. “Just tell him.” Thranduil said, voice shaky and eyes watery, unable to form the words properly.

Meera ran the short distance to him up the short boarding ramp and pulled him into a tight and final embrace.

“He knows.” She whispered and Thranduil nodded, he still missed him every day.

Meera returned to the land and Thranduil stepped onto the ship and he watched his great-granddaughter grow smaller until even his elven eyes could not see her anymore.

 

“Be proud of me.” Thranduil whispered into the air as the ship pressed on towards the west.

And as a soft breeze danced through his hair he knew.

 

He would love him forever, and he was proud.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have come to the end :( I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I have two new projects getting ready to start as this and Oh, There You Are have both come to an end, feel free to come chat with me on [the tumbles](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/) and feel free to ask about my new projects if you are curious ^^
> 
> Comments and Kudos are unimaginably precious to me, especially now we have reached the end <3
> 
> Thank you all again!


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